


It Never Happened

by jasmineisland



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Molestation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 15:50:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasmineisland/pseuds/jasmineisland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for h/c bingo on lj<br/>John is drunk, Sam has to get them both out of trouble. Sam is 14. Non-con underage molestation Sam/OMC</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Never Happened

[h/c bingo card](http://jasmineisland.livejournal.com/3483.html)

Title:  It Never Happened

Prompt: Forced To Participate in Illegal/Hurtful Activity

Medium: meta

Characters: John, Sam, OMC Mention of Dean

Warning: non-con underage oral sex 

Word Count: 1858

Summary: John is drunk, Sam has to get them both out of trouble. Sam is 14.  
  


John was drunk. That was nothing new. But the bartender at this particular bar was one of those that took her license and insurance seriously. She wasn’t about to allow John to drive home after draining a couple of her well bottles. So she demanded that John hand over his phone and his keys. She called his son, Dean, but the call went right to voicemail. So she tried Sam, who picked up after two rings.

Sam’s first instinct was to tell the bartender to get his father a cab, but he knew that leaving that truck with all of Dad’s weapons in front of a bar was a bad idea. So, after digging through all of their pants pockets and the coffee jar in the cabinet, Sam had enough for a cab himself. The closest bar to the cabin they were holed up in was over 20 miles away. It still took him over an hour to get there. By that time, John was well past drunk and headed for unconsciousness. Sam had tried Dean’s cell, but with no hunt going on, his brother was out with some girl, and not about to answer his phone. The bartender had taken one look at Sam and voiced her doubts that he was old enough to drive the truck. The 14 year old produced a license given to him by Dean that stated he was two months short of his 17th birthday and she relented. Cursing the fact that even his recent growth spurt couldn’t erase the baby face features, Sam struggled to get his father to the truck.

When Sam finally got John in the truck, he promptly passed out. At least the drive home was going to be peaceful. Thinking more about how he was going to get his father out of the truck then driving, Sam didn’t realize he was going about 15 miles over the posted limit until he saw blue lights in the rear view mirror.

“Shit.” There was no way he could out run the cop in the truck. Not to mention that they were in the town for another couple weeks and couldn’t afford to bring down the kind of heat that would bring down. A ticket could be handled. Pulling over, he reached into the glove box for the registration and pulled out the license.

The cop approached the truck and put his hand on his gun. Not a good sign to the boy and he held both hands up where they were visable.

“License and registration.” When Sam handed them over, the cop shined a flashlight into the cab of the truck. “Smells like a distillery in here. You been drinking, boy?”

“No, sir. My father was drinking. I’m just driving him home.” His heart was pounding, but he took even breaths to hide the rising panic.

“Why don’t you step on out here and let me take a look.”

Praying to several gods in more than a few languages that John didn’t have any weapons out in the open, Sam stepped from the cab of the truck. At first the officer seemed content to give Sam a roadside sobriety test, which the teen passed without a word. Just as Sam was about to think he was going to be back in the truck shortly, the officer stopped and stared at him closely.

“I know you from somewhere.”

“I don’t think so, sir.”

Shining his flashlight in the teen’s eyes, he moved closer. “I’ve met your brother.”

The teen’s heart felt like it was leaping to his throat, but he kept his breaths even and didn’t answer.

 “Winchester. That’s your name. You want to tell me what the fuck this is?” Voice rising, the officer held up the fake I.D. Sam had provided. “Fucking trouble just hanging out in our town. Doesn’t surprise me that your old man is passed out in the front seat. Big brother Dean’s following in his footsteps, and now you’re passing off fake I.D.’s.”

All pretense of calm fled and Sam stared at the officer, waiting to see what he was going to do.

“One call. You know that? One call right now and your father goes to jail for contributing to the delinquency of a minor, child neglect, drunk in public, and any other charge I can come up with. You go straight to Juvy Hall, then to Foster Care, since your father will be in jail. One call and I can make damn sure you never see your father or brother again.”

“Please don’t.” Sam whispered, praying that there was a way to stop this. “Don’t take me away from my brother and father.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Moving closer, the officer watched the teen’s reaction closely. “Seems to me I just might be doing you a favor.”

Tear filled eyes raised to meet the glaring man. “Because they’re all I have.”

A broad smile that terrified Sam crossed the officer’s face. “What’s your first name?”

“Sam.”

“Call me Mike, Sam. And I guess if you really don’t want me to make that call you can thank your father later for putting  you right where I want you.”

Large hands pressed the side of the truck on either side of the shaking teen. Sam looked desperately over his shoulder towards his father, but the alcohol induced sleep was too deep to hear anything going on outside the truck. He tried to ignore the thought in the back of his mind that knew exactly where this was heading, but the way Mike moved closer and actually looked him over eliminated any hope Sam had that he was wrong.

 “Why don’t you tell me what you’re willing to do so I won’t make that call.”

When the hand moved from the truck to the side of Sam’s head and gripped his hair, it was all the boy could do to not scream. Every muscle tensed and he briefly wondered if he could take the officer.

“Don’t think it, Sam. I know where you live and I’ve got a pretty good idea where that asshole brother of yours is right now. Daddy and big brother in adjoining jail cells wouldn’t go over well in family court around here.”

“Please. Don’t.” Tears fell uncontrolled down Sam’s face and when the hand that wasn’t holding his hair moved to his hip an actual whimper escaped.

“That was a pretty noise, Sam. Let me hear that again.” Mike deliberately moved his hand around to grip the crotch of Sam’s jeans and he was rewarded with an even louder whimper and a full body shudder. “Just what am I going to do with you? I wish I had the time to do exactly what I’m thinking right now, but I guess we’ll just have to make due.”

Before the  young hunter’s imagination could even conjure up an image of what ‘making due’ would be, he was roughly jerked to his knees by his hair. Even with his vision blurry from tears, he could see the hands that had been holding him now jerking down the zipper of the pants in front of him. “No. No. No.” Was the only word his terrified mind could form and it came out in halting whispers mixed with more actual whimpers.

The teen squeezed his eyes shut, but a hand returned to his hair.

“Open up, Sam. And you better make it good, I can still make a call.”

Sam had no idea what he was doing, he’d never even considered taking anyone’s dick in his mouth. And the one sloppy blowjob he’d managed to get didn’t really teach him the mechanics of it. It didn’t seem to matter. Mike simply held his head in place and basically fucked himself with the boy’s mouth. Feeling like the blunt tip might actually punch through the back of his throat, Sam fought the gag reflex that threatened to bring up his entire stomach. When he tried to pull back, the hands holding his head only gripped tighter and refused to let him move. Tears streamed down his face, but he tried to hitch a breath between thrusts and prayed in his mind that it would be over soon.

In the back of his mind, Sam knew it hadn’t gone on as long as he’d felt like it had before his throat was filled once, twice, and on the third time the dick that was blocking his breath pulsed before flooding his throat. Instantly the crying teen’s stomach rebelled and he gagged.

Pulling away, Mike looked down as Sam retched. “Get your sorry ass up and take you piece of shit father home.” He leaned down and put his mouth next to the boy’s ear. “Just remember, Sam, not a word, and no more shit from you or anyone else in your sorry excuse for a family. I fuck on the second date.” With that he got back in his car and drove away.

For several long minutes, Sam gagged. Long after the cum  had been expelled, his stomach continued to try to rid itself of any reminder of what had occupied it. Part of him hoped his father would finally stir to help him, but a larger part of him prayed that John never knew what he’d been forced to do.

Finally his stomach seemed satisfied that it was empty, and Sam knew he had to get up and get out of there before the son of  a bitch came back. His entire body was trembling, but he managed to get into the truck and shut the door. One look at his father and it was all Sam could do not to punch the unconscious man. Anger rose in him and he saw his cell phone on the seat. For a brief moment he considered calling Dean just to ask him if the bitch he was fucking was worth what it had cost Sam. But then he caught a glimpse of himself in the rear view mirror and it all stopped. This morning he’d seen the face of a teenager, still clinging to too much baby fat with slanted eyes and a bit of peach fuzz. What he saw now was something he never wanted his father or brother to see. Something dirty. Used and cast aside like any other piece of trash he’d thrown out of the Impala yesterday when he’d cleaned it out. Anger gave way to fear that John and/or Dean would take one look at him and see how dirty he was now. Shaking, he reached out and turned to key to start the engine. The only thought that was going through his mind as he slowly drove home was to get in the shower and wash any trace of what had happened from his body. Once the dried vomit and cum was gone, and the smell of the all-to-human monster washed away, he would somehow convince himself that it was all a bad dream.

It never happened.

It never happened.

It never happened. If he told himself that enough, someday he might actually believe it.


End file.
